


Opposition Research

by wired



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Hotel Sex, One Night Stands, Woman on Top, condom use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wired/pseuds/wired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opposition Research

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/gifts).



> Written for inlovewithnight for the One Night Stand Ficathon. She requested "West Wing, Sam Seaborn/Amy Gardner (opposition research)".

Sam came on time. Which was surprising, because there is some kind of temporal distortion on the centers of power, and the closer you get to them, the less likely you are to arrive on time for anything.

Amy was kind of pissed off, because she was here to pick a fight and figure out why exactly Sam's boss was waffling on siccing the DNC on a renegade congressman, and here he was, on time and polite, which made it harder to start off bitchy. Well, some days, you had to work harder than others.

Not only was he on time, he listened to her whole argument attentively.

"Seriously? You are asking me to withdraw support from a democratic congressman? Just because he made a stupid speech? You mean it?"

"If you knew me better, you would know I meant every word of that."

Sam rolled his his cosmopolitan between his palms. It was only his second, but the bartender here was obviously a refugee from a gay bar. "So what would it take to get to know you better? As it obviously behooves me to study the opposing point of view on this matter."

"Well, sex is a great way to get to know people". Amy took another sip of her scotch and soda.

"Did you just... are you possibly suggesting that you... that I?" She enjoyed watching him struggle not to revert to 13-yo boy at the spring sock-hop.

"That we fuck like howler monkeys?"

"Is that what you're suggesting?"

"I like to do my opposition research really thoroughly."

"Thoroughness is a virtue."

"It's not like Mallory is talking to you."

"Hey! How did you...?"

"Ladies' room telegraph. So you in or not? Cuz if not I know a hockey player I could call..."

"In!"

Amy grinned at him and lifted her glass in a salute, then downed the rest of her drink with panache. "Your place or mine? Or stay on neutral ground? I should warn you I have a big fat beagle who snores."

"Oh. Do you need to go home and feed it or something?" Sam tried not to grimace. He had Traumatic Beagle Memories involving a girl and explaining to his mom how the crotch of his pants got chewed up. On the other hand, his place was...maybe not. Amy did not seem like the type who would be impressed by Mt. Pizza Box.

"Nah. I have a service."

"Right then. Let's just...get a room. It'll be more convenient. And I've heard the beds here are nice. I mean, if you don't mind?" She let him keep babbling for a couple minutes, then stood up, picked up her purse, and crooked a finger at him. He followed.  
*****  
Sam stopped at the door to slip the do not disturb card in the lock. When he turned around, Amy had shucked her heels and was doing an interesting contortion to get to the middle stage of her dress's zipper. "Would you like a hand with that, Amy?"

"I got myself into this, I can get myself out." She struggled for another moment, her right arm arched behind her head, and her left twisted up from beneath. Sam stepped up to her and put his palms across her nipples.

"Well, then let me get in your way."

His hands trailed down her waist to the hem of the dress, all rucked from her efforts with the zipper. Sam slid his hands up and cupped the curve of her hips. He didn't try to drag her closer, which was a nice nod to personal autonomy. Amy gave up on the zipper and relocated her arms around Sam, stretching up for a kiss. His pretty-boy eyes widened. Then she stepped back and her dress slid back down. She slipped around to the edge of the bed and sat down to pick up the phone. She dialed absently while pulling off her earrings, and set the phone to speaker.

Sam took off his jacket, and wandered around the room, pulling the light-blocking drapes and peeking in the bathroom.

"Front desk, how may I help you?"

Amy deadpanned into the phone. "I forgot an essential toiletry."

"Yes ma'am. We can have someone bring it right up. What do you need?"

"Non-latex condoms. At least two." Sam poked his head around the bathroom door and raised his eyebrows. Amy grinned.

"Yes ma'am."

"Thanks."

She hung up the phone and giggled. "The worst part is that then you have to leave your clothes on so you don't rough the bellhop."

Sam straightened his cuffs, and then straightened his tie, and then straightened his cuffs again. "I suppose you do. There's a lot you can do with your clothes on, though. I've seen research." He put one hand on her waist and the other on her breast and walked her backwards into the bed, where she fell down. He knelt between her legs and turned his head to kiss her left knee, his left hand squeezing just above her right knee. Her skin was warm and he could smell her lotion, and the waft of aroused woman. He kissed further up her thigh, running his hand up her other leg under her skirt to push it out of the way. Amy squirmed under him and he looked up just in time to see her grab the pillows from the head of the bed to prop herself up and watch him. Sam ducked his head again.

There was a knock at the door. Amy looked up, her hair slightly mussed and the dangles of her necklace caught up on each other. "I'll tip him, since I ambushed you. And because I care about non-latex. But boyscout, you should carry." She slid off the bed and padded to the door. Sam lay on his back and took deep breaths. He hadn't felt this caught in a wave since that time he was 15 and got flipped off his board and carried halfway to Hawaii. When Amy came around the corner again, she was carrying a little glass basket that matched the ones holding the soaps in the bathroom. In it were three brands of non-latex condoms, two types of lube in plastic single-use tubes, and some individually-packaged personal wipes.

"Gotta love concierge service."

Amy set the basket on the bedside table and grabbed his tie to tug him onto the bed. She skinned out of her dress by flipping the hem up and taking it off over her head, like she usually did. The zipper would have been sexier, but her arms were just not built like that. Sam lay on the bed looking up at her, and she knelt in her black Hanes and Victoria's Secret bra, and the silver dangle necklace. This was the moment she loved best, when all the slow ratcheting of the rollercoaster was over, when the hill was climbed and all that was left was the thrill of the plunge. She hated both the climb of the rollercoaster and the slow small steps of seduction, but she loved the drop, the speed, the sudden wrenching twists and the inability to think about anything but what what she was doing, while she was doing it.

She had gotten Sam in bed, and it was not a long-plotted campaign, but a moment's impulse. The ride line was non-existent, miraculously, because this was a dead sexy piece of guy. In a preppy sun-kissed way. If you liked that sort of thing.

He reached up for her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped across him, dropped into his kiss. He unfastened her bra one-handed, and then grinned with pride that he knew such a little-boy trick. She unknotted his tie and then pulled it out of his collar so quickly the end slapped him with a little sting. She started on his shirt buttons from the bottom, and he started from the top, and they raced until she could plant a kiss on his solar plexus, the shirt spread out and forgotten as he tentatively twined his fingers in her hair, and she reached up to wrap her fingers around his and encouraged him to twist. She would have said something, but her teeth were locked around his nipple, and he was making noises that indicated that was ok by him.

He slid his hands down the back of her panties, pushing them down her hips and thighs to bind at her knees, and she made a frustrated sound and rolled on her back to take them all the way off. Before she had managed the second foot, he had insinuated his shoulders under her knees and was lapping at her cunt in a sort of undirected but enthusiastic way. She reached down to spread her labia with one hand, and the other stayed on her nipple pulling it out, attenuating it, so she felt like she was pulling herself out, straightening and yearning into his tongue. About thirty seconds after he found her rhythm, he stopped and started sliding up her body, until his belt caught on a sheet.

He rolled off the bed and started stripping out of his pants and socks, and Amy thrust her finger into her vagina and then pulled it out to lick on it. No girl juice tastes as good as your own. Panting, Sam dropped to the bed again his chest against her crotch and his mouth around Amy's other nipple. Amy couldn't reach his cock, but she knew how to bring it out of hiding. She reached out to the bedside table, and managed to get a condom after the second try, her fingers shaking. She opened it with one hand and her teeth, an old maneuver. His work on her breast was making it hard for her to determine the correct orientation of the condom, so she said, "Hey, cowboy." and he looked up. His pupils were flared wide open with lust, and judging by the painful brightness of the room, so were hers. "You wanna try the bronco ride?". He snorted, and she held up the condom.

She felt him shiver against her, and stop for moment to get his head straight. "Good call." He rose to his knees, his chest and stomach gleaming a little from contact with her. She handed him the condom and he rolled it down. Amy twisted and rolled so that she could get the enrobed cock in her mouth, and he made a noise like perhaps he had been a boy soprano as she ran her tongue up the underside. His hands came down on her shoulders and she mentally wrote off wearing tank tops to the gym as his fingers sank into her skin and muscle, and ground against her collarbones. As he started to arc she pulled back. "Are we gonna tease each other some more, or get this going?"

"Going. God. Amy."

She pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him, but didn't take him in, instead spending a few strokes rubbing his cock against the searing wetness of her vulva, enjoying the friction and the moaning. His hand gripped her hips, and he kept flexing his fingers to keep from guiding her into what HE wanted. Amy bent down and kissed him, then fastened her teeth onto his chest and pushed on to him, hard. She sat up and braced herself with fingertips on his nipples and worked him back and forth as his head tossed and his hair mussed itself against the pillows. Amy threw her head back and came, hard right around him, without breaking the beat. As soon as she stopped seeing stars, she twisted his nipples until he groaned.

Sam came on time, exactly when she expected him to. There was something comforting about preppy men, some gestalt rhythm of sex that they all absorbed in their homosocial programming. All those failed, brilliant relationships with successful brilliant men who wanted her as a polishing cloth. Knob polisher. Whatever. Josh was different. Josh was like sleeping with a girl, not the soft self-ness, but the amazed wonder to be there, touching. But Josh was history, and here she was with a sexy powerful man and he was wrapped around her .... fingers.

To prove her point to herself, she Kegeled his cock and watched his eyes roll back a bit in his head. It's good to be queen.  
*******  
When Amy woke up, Sam was gone. There was a note written on hotel stationery on his pillow:

Amy --

Thanks for letting me get to know you. I know we come down on different sides of a lot of issues, but I think this was a very informational session.

Your loyal opposition,

Sam


End file.
